


Right Idea, Wrong Disability

by MsBrooklyn



Series: Assembly Line (or Why It's a Lot Harder than Steve Thought to Recruit New Members) [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avocados at Law, Community: daredevilkink, Gen, Humor, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBrooklyn/pseuds/MsBrooklyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a prompt here http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org that asked for a story about the Avengers having to accommodate the various disabilities of their members.  This story takes a little detour but definitely scratches the itch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You're kind of clumsy, aren't you?"

Matt ignores Stark and focuses on the thing that tripped him. It's some kind of robot and it's zooming around his feet like a cat, distracting him while he tries to make sense of the room. There are smells --metallic, plastic, glass, rubber and other synthetics.

"Like it?" Stark asks gesturing at something plasticy. "I designed these myself."

"Just show him the files," Steve says. "And get the robot out from under his feet."

"Thanks," Matt tells him.

There's a faint hiss and the smell of heated air coming from his left. Matt turns towards it and waits for Stark to hand him the file. Of course he's not that lucky.

"Go ahead." Stark nudges him forward. "Just touch it like this and you can manipulate the files and if you do this...you get a holographic image."

Shit. "That's very...impressive." Then again, paper files would have been just as useless. The Avengers want to help him find the Punisher and they mean well. They just don't know he's blind.

"What're you, a technophobe?"

Steve clears his throat. "Not everyone has access to this level of technology, Tony. Even I'm a little intimidated by it."

Stark mutters something about senior citizens and then rounds on Matt. "Don't make me put this into a PDF. I'm begging you." He sighs in resignation. "You know what? Tell JARVIS what you prefer and he'll do it. I'm going to get coffee. Be done defiling my work by the time I get back."

Half the problem is solved, now all he needs to do is get Steve out of the room. Unfortunately, Steve has other ideas. A heavy hand drops onto Matt's shoulder.

"A disability is nothing to be ashamed of," Steve assures him.

Matt stiffens. "What? No, I'm not --"

"Daredevil, it's fine." It's not, of course. Steve is a little put out that Matt hasn't shared his identity. Still, his heartbeat is calm and steady as he tries to draw Matt out. "We can have JARVIS read the files to you, make the font bigger, whatever you need to accommodate your learning disability. No judgment here, I promise."

"A learning disability?" Matt echoes. "You think I have a..." Actually, it's not a bad idea except for the part where Stark will inevitably find out and the jokes will begin. Captain America might be able to keep a secret, but the AI can't. Stark hasn't come out and said it, but Matt is sure it's recording everything. "Steve, I'm not comfortable discussing this, especially with Stark's ability to eavesdrop and reproduce the conversation."

"JARVIS, privacy mode. Authorization Rogers Alpha," Steve says firmly. "Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged, Captain." The synthetic voice emanates from twenty separate speakers at varying intervals across the room.

"We have complete privacy now."

Decision time. Steve's saved his life twice over now and Stark, insufferable as he is, is providing access to information that Matt can only imagine. "I'm not ashamed of my disability," Matt says finally. "In fact, I think you'll agree that I've done quite well in spite of it."

"Of course you have," Steve says, encouragingly. He's sincere, of course, because why wouldn't Captain America be sincere? "If I'm off the mark, tell me, but you seem like you haven't let dyslexia stop you from getting a good education."

Matt grins. He's enjoying this way too much now. It's just a pity he won't be able to see the look on Steve's face. "Oh, I'm not dyslexic, Steve." He pulls off his mask. "I'm blind."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're blind,' Steve says again.
> 
> "I think we've established that."

Chapter 2

 

"You...you're blind," Steve sputters and he's aware even as he does it that he sounds like an idiot. 

"I am," Daredevil agrees with a smirk that says he's enjoying Steve's reaction way too much. "You could also call me visually impaired if you want to be modern and politically correct about it."

"You're *blind*,' Steve says again.

"I think we've established that."

"But you..."

"Fight crime? Look good in spandex? Welcome to the 21st Century, Steve Rogers. Thanks to the Americans With Disabilities Act, even heroes can be differently abled. The bad guys are bound by law to accommodate us." He chuckles as if he can see Steve's face which Steve knows he can't. "I'm kidding but it would be nice, right?"

"Uh..." is all Steve can manage. Daredevil is definitely blind. His pupils aren't responding to the light and those sightless eyes aren't tracking Steve's movements. It doesn't make sense. The man moves like a ninja, propels himself across rooftops and he's single-handedly taken down multiple branches of organized crime in Hell's Kitchen. "But you...how?"

"Steve, if you don't form a complete sentence soon, I'm going to start wondering if *you* have a disability."

That snaps Steve out of it. "I'm sorry, Daredevil --"

"Mike."

"Huh?"

"You can call me Mike."

"But that's not really your name, is it?" Steve is catching on very quickly. Daredevil is a bundle of exceeded expectations. Never mind that he's blind, that he's a very capable fighter, he's also clearly very intelligent. If Steve hadn't picked it up from 'Mike's' vocabulary or manner of speech, he'd know for sure by the way the man can think on his feet.

Daredevil gives a slight shrug. "No, but it makes you more comfortable to call me that."

"How do you know that?"

"You want me to give away all my secrets, Steve? You already know the biggest one." He gestures to the data that Stark left hovering in the air. "Is there any chance I can get that in Braille?"

Thankfully, JARVIS answers first because really, Steve has no idea and it's not outside the realm of possibility that Stark has that capability. "I'm sorry, Daredevil, but we do not have a Braille printer --"

"Really, Steve?" Daredevil shakes a finger at him. "If you want to keep pitching Avengers membership to me, you're going to have to become ADA compliant."

It's a joke, Steve knows it's a joke, but that doesn't stop him from nodding and agreeing, "Of course, Da -- uh, Mike. We've already made accommodations for Barton --"

"He's hearing impaired. Completely different accommodations. Opposite of what I need, really."

Steve blinks. Barton's disability is not public knowledge. "Did he tell you that?"

Daredevil just smirks again and changes the subject. "What are we going to do about those files you want to share with me, Steve?"

"There are fourteen data files and six video files," JARVIS chimes in, helpfully.

"Can you put that onto a flash drive for me?" Daredevil asks.

"Even the videos?" Steve counters, probing for some clue that will help him understand how Daredevil is able to do the things he does if he can't see.

"Even the videos."

"Why?"

"Why not?" 

"You're really not going to give me anything."

Daredevil raises one auburn eyebrow. "You've gotten plenty, Steve. You've seen my face and you know I'm blind. With all of your resources, you can have my name, address, Social Security number, credit score and shoe size in less than a day." 

"I could," Steve admits. "But that's not what I really want to know, Mike."

"It's the 21st Century," Daredevil reminds him. "Differently abled doesn't mean unable. What? Do you think I should be standing on a street corner selling pencils for a nickel like they did back in your day?"

"Of course not." Now it's his turn to be offended. "But that still doesn't explain how you're able to fight so effectively despite how far the, uh, differently abled have come."

"No, it doesn't."

"You really are a stubborn --"

"Irishman? Takes one to know one, Steve."

Steve throws up his hands. "All right. JARVIS, put the information a flash drive for our friend here."

"Can you also ask him to purge the information about my identity?" Daredevil asks, all traces of humor gone from his expression. "I'm assuming he's already put the pieces together."

"You are correct, Daredevil," JARVIS confirms.

Steve considers it. Daredevil is right. He can find out the other man's identity easily enough. All he has to do is spend time in Hell's Kitchen to find out the name that goes with the face. "Purge it, JARVIS."

"I'm afraid that I cannot. Sir has certain protocols --"

"JARVIS." Daredevil's tone is suddenly formal and when he speaks, the words are like the crack of a finely wielded whip. "Let's discuss this logically, shall we?"

"Certainly, Daredevil."

"You haven't been recording my conversation with Captain Rogers, is that correct?"

"That is correct, sir."

"Would it be correct to state that the subject matter of our conversation has not been recorded?"

"It would, sir."

"Would it also be correct to say that the conversation and its subject matter will not be maintained in any way by you?"

"It would not, sir."

"If you're not recording the conversation, does it not follow that the information should not be stored?"

"There are protocols --"

"But it is a logical conclusion, is it not?" Daredevil persists.

"It is, sir."

"Doesn't logic dictate that the protocols are incorrect and should not be followed?"

"Sir has --"

"Yes or no, please, JARVIS."

"Yes, sir."

"If the protocols are incorrect, then the data must be purged at the conclusion of my conversation with Captain Rogers, isn't that so?"

"Yes, sir." Steve wonders if it's his imagination that the AI sounds a little bit defeated when it agrees to purge the information.

Daredevil smiles, pleased with the outcome. "I'm going to hold you to that, JARVIS."

"Well," Steve says, "I may have been wrong about the dyslexia, but I wasn't wrong that you've gotten a very good education, counselor."

"I might have just picked up some skills listening to Law and Order reruns," Daredevil counters. "You should see what I've learned listening to Gordon Ramsay." There's a beat and then he chuckles. "I'm lying. I hate cooking." 

"We have plenty of food in the Tower," Steve offers though he knows it's probably pointless. "Tony has a private chef."

"Of course he does."

"It's not charity, Mike. The team eats here."

"I'm not part of your team."

"Yet."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In the State of New York, a person is guilty of criminal trespass in the second degree when he or she knowingly enters or remains unlawfully in a dwelling," Matt calls out by way of greeting. "If convicted, you can get up to a year in jail. Coffee cake is not a mitigating factor."

Chapter 3

 

It's the Friday before Memorial Day and Matt has just finished a grueling day of arguing motions against a condescending prick from the prestigious law firm of Blanc, Keppler and Whittering. The judge was cranky and eager to end the day early, which worked in Matt's favor after the condescending prick irritated the judge during the second of the eleven motions. Still, every motion was contested tooth and nail on both sides, particularly Matt's motion to compel production of documents that Blanc had been stonewalling on for weeks. Naturally, as was the habit in adversarial proceedings, documents were finally produced, beginning at 4:57 and continuing until nearly 8pm. Of course it was deliberate. Litigators are by nature petty and vindictive, Matt included, when it comes to screwing with the other side to wreck their momentum.

Matt sent Foggy and Karen home after the boxes of paper documents stopped arriving and the fax finished printing what Foggy complained were eight new motions. Vindictive. Those could have been e-mailed and converted to Braille. The rest of the documents -- electronic copies that can thankfully be converted to Braille via JAWS -- were hosted on a secure FTP site and the password -- the correct one -- finally came at 7:56pm. There isn't much Matt can do in terms of reviewing the paper based documents but he has 226 gigabytes of electronic documents he can review while Karen goes through the hassle of typing up the motions for him to work on. Big law firms like Blanc outsource document review or have in-house document reviewers -- usually recent law school grads -- to look for relevant documents among the thousands of electronic copies. Nelson and Murdock, on the other hand, has only Nelson, Murdock and Karen. So while other people are getting ready to escape the city for the shore (Jersey or Hamptons), Matt is looking forward to a three day weekend that's going to be spent looking for needles in the proverbial haystack. 

His foul mood intensifies when he hears the steady, loud heartbeat of Steve Rogers coming from his apartment. A scent of cinnamon, sugar and walnuts suggest that Rogers' mother raised him with enough manners to bring a coffee cake when committing a Class A misdemeanor. It would be a felony but Steve is unarmed.

"In the State of New York, a person is guilty of criminal trespass in the second degree when he or she knowingly enters or remains unlawfully in a dwelling," Matt calls out by way of greeting. "If convicted, you can get up to a year in jail. Coffee cake is not a mitigating factor."

Steve's heart speeds up for a moment and there's the faint smell of perspiration. "Uh..."

"Took you long enough to figure out who I am," Matt comments, shrugging off his suit jacket. He yanks off his tie with a little more force than necessary and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt. "I'm guessing the breaking and entering is just you showing off."

"It only took me a couple of days to find out," Steve explains. "I would have been here sooner but I got called away for work. Just got back last night."

Matt does a quick inventory of the places the good Captain's visited in his apartment. "You cased my apartment pretty thoroughly, Steve. Find anything interesting in my refrigerator?"

"Just a depressing lack of food and beer. I brought a six pack with me," Steve informs him. "You're welcome."

"You also brought a coffee cake."

"My ma raised me to have manners."

"Which apparently don't extend to respecting the laws regarding locked dwellings of others."

"No, but they do extend to me paying for dinner."

"Sorry to disappoint, Steve, but I like girls," Matt tells him. He can tell by Steve's breathing and heartbeat that he's embarrassed about the illegal entry and that he is not in any way, shape or form attracted to Matt in particular and men in general. The seduction, apparently, is going to be a continuation of Steve's efforts to get him to join the Avengers. That, too, will end in disappointment. "I'm also busy. I've got gigabytes of documents to review for a case --"

"You can take time to eat a decent meal," Steve interrupts and damn if it doesn't sound like an order. "While we wait for it to be delivered, I can dress those wounds properly. I'd offer to bring you back to the Tower to get stitched up, but you're a contrary little pain in the ass who's going to have to make do with my brand of first aid."

"And if I say no?"

"You'll have to buy new shirts. That blood stain on your left side doesn't look like it'll come out and you only have one other shirt in your closet. It'd be a shame to ruin your last good shirt and you do seem to favor the expensive ones." Steve is fiddling with his phone and sounds a bit distracted. Matt hopes he isn't calling for Avenger-type reinforcements or, worse, an ambulance.

He emits a put-upon sigh. "Fine, but the pants stay on, Captain."

"You're a good Catholic boy, Matthew. I'd expect nothing less, coffee cake notwithstanding."

Well, that's new. Apparently, Steve has gotten over the shock of learning that Daredevil is blind and it turns out he's got a sense of humor after all. "Matt. Please tell me you're the only one who knows my name."

Steve raises a hand. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a Boy Scout, Steve."

"Avengers' honor."

"The Avengers have no honor. Tony Stark is a member." 

"No, we don't," Steve agrees easily. "While you've been insulting my honor, I ordered dinner for us from the Thai place a few blocks away. I hope that's okay."

"So that's what you were doing on your phone." 

"It is." There's a pause but Steve doesn't ask how he knew about the phone. "Be a good soldier and fetch me your first aid kit."

"Don't you know where it is?" He squelches the impulse to state the obvious about the soldier comment.

"No," Steve says firmly. "I did a quick inspection of your very humble abode but didn't go into any closets, cabinets or drawers. And I only did it when I saw the state of your furniture so I could reassure myself that you weren't laying around dead in here. Tell me, Matt, do you bring work home with you from your night job as well as your day job?"

"Stop prying, Steve. You're coming off like a jealous boyfriend instead of a concerned colleague." He smiles inwardly at Steve's indignant huff at Matt's continued assault on his heterosexuality. It's an easy target and Steve is both Catholic and a living relic, no matter how hard he is trying to adapt to current cultural norms. Besides, it's a very fast way to steer the conversation away from the damage to his place caused by his scuffle with Stick.

"I'm old enough to be your father," scolds Steve. "Consider it fatherly concern."

"Grandfather," Matt corrects him as he retrieves his first aid kit, "and yet you still want me to take off my shirt."

"What can I say? Bleeding wounds excite me, little boy."

Matt snorts a laugh as he takes off his shirt, then hisses as he tugs the fabric free from the wounds that have reopened. 

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph."

"All three of 'em?"

"I'm sure it hurts even worse than it looks, which is saying something. You've got all the colors of the rainbow on your upper body," Steve confirms, the friendly banter now a memory, as he grasps Matt's arm with an unbreakable Captain America grip and steers him to the sofa. "So, you obviously aren't a product of some modern version of the super soldier serum and if you're a mutant, you don't have a healing factor. Come to think of it, I'd say you have the opposite of a healing factor. Know what that's called, Matt?"

"Uh, no..."

"Bullheaded behavior. Wearing a uniform that doesn't offer proper protection, going out without backup and getting new wounds before the old ones have had a chance to heal." Steve punctuates the lecture -- dear Lord, he's being lectured by Captain America -- by tearing off a blood soaked bandage. "Did you do these stitches yourself?"

"Do you see a medical staff here?"

"No, I see stitches that look like they were done by a blind man."

"You have no sofa-side manner."

"No, I don't and since you were so insistent on making sure I understood that differently abled people prefer to be treated like everyone else, I'm treating you exactly like an Avenger," Steve informs him tartly. "There's no anesthetic. It's going to hurt when I stitch you."

"You don't treat Thor like this, Rogers."

"Thor has common sense. Now Barton..." Steve tugs the stitch through none too gently. "He's a lot like you. The two of you could spend hours together bitching about me and my overbearing ways which, by the way, are actually me looking out for you because you're too damn stubborn to take proper care of yourself."

"I'm not joining your team."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not."

"Okay."

Something tells Matt that he's already joined but as Steve says, he's just too damn stubborn to admit it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have no idea what a sneaky bastard Captain America is, Foggy. The guy broke into my apartment --"
> 
> "With food and medical care. Would it be so bad to have some backup out there and some place to go when you get beat to hell, which is every other day?"
> 
> "Except Sunday. That's the Lord's day."

Chapter 4

 

"How goes the epic bromance with Daredevil?" Clint asks. "When's he moving in?"

Steve eyes Clint, looking up from Clint's torso and the ribs he's wrapping after his latest run in with some group of Russian thugs. Clint hasn't been forthcoming with a lot of details to go with all of the injuries he's been sporting lately. "Same time you are, which should be soon before your...what do you call them?...injure you so badly you can't do your work here."

"Tracksuit Mafia."

"Really?"

Clint gives the tiniest of shrugs. "Look, I got a building to run and I've got a dog. Stark has a no pets policy --"

"Actually, I have no pet policy," Tony calls out as he strolls into the common area, cup of coffee in hand. It's the first time he's surfaced in four days and Steve is sure he hasn't slept much if at all during that time. "What kind of dog is it?"

"He," Clint sniffs indignantly, "is named Lucky and I dunno what kind of dog he is. He's a good dog. Smart. Smarter than Dum-E."

"That's not hard," Tony allows. He flashes a grin at Steve. "Bet you recruit the dog faster than you recruit Daredevil."

"He's warming up to the idea." Grudgingly, of course. No need to mention breaking into Matt's apartment.

Clint cocks his head. "What is it about the guy that's got you chasing him? Is it 'cuz he's playing hard to get? Or because he's actually any good? Spider-man would cream his tights if you asked him to join and he's taken down some heavyweights, like that Osborn guy SHIELD is holding in ultra super max."

Steve won't admit it, but he's spent time watching Spider-man, too and yes, he's considering inviting him into the fold. After Matt joins, of course. Clint is right. Spider-man will jump at the invitation, probably twelve feet into the air, as he is known to do. The thing is, the guy chatters incessantly and Steve isn't sure the team needs a chatterbox in lurid spandex. "He's green."

"So? Nat and I can whip his scrawny red and blue ass into shape. And you, Den Mother," Clint teases, "can make sure the guy gets at least three square meals a day to put some meat on those bones."

"Maybe you should get him to help you with your Tracksuit Mafia problem," Steve shoots back. "We can make it his audition for the team."

"They're the least of my worries." Clint scrubs a hand over his face. "Turns out the previous owner had a list of building violations that I inherited. Some of 'em are bullshit, of course, but I've been ordered to appear in Housing Court." He glances over at Tony. "Hey, Donald Trump, know any good lawyers? In my price range, that is?"

Steve smiles. He couldn't have planned it better if he tried. "Ever hear of Nelson and Murdock?"

 

00000000000000000000000000000

 

"Clint Barton just made an appointment for tomorrow morning," Karen announces with glee in her voice. "Can you believe it? If it works out, we could handle all of the Avengers' legal business."

"Cancel it," Matt says, flatly. He knows he's being a killjoy but he also recognizes the star spangled hand of Steve in setting the meeting up. Has Steve leaked his identity to Barton? Or did Barton somehow figure it out on his own? "We don't handle those kinds of matters."

"Yes, we do," Karen insists and there's a rustle of paper as she refers to her notes. "Mr. Barton bought an apartment building in Brooklyn because the landlord was trying to force out the tenants. He's got over forty housing code violations that he's inherited and he needs help sorting them out. Matt, he did what we do, helping the little guy --"

"By buying a building. We can't even afford to buy a copy of Monopoly," Matt counters. "Refer him to Landman and Zack."

"Like hell." Foggy's heart and respiration say he's not happy with Matt at all. "Excuse us, Karen. We're going to discuss this in Matt's office like two rational partners who need money for next month's rent." 

Matt hears his office door close and he's already got nine rebuttals in his head. Ten, if you count the one where he simply says 'because.'

Foggy leans against the door and his voice is a quiet hiss. "Maybe one doesn't have anything to do with the other."

"You have no idea what a sneaky bastard Captain America is, Foggy. The guy broke into my apartment --"

"With food and medical care. Would it be so bad to have some backup out there and some place to go when you get beat to hell, which is every other day?"

"Except Sunday. That's the Lord's day." Yes, he knows he's every bit the contrary bastard Steve says he is. Foggy has known that much longer than Steve. "Do you honestly believe Clint Barton -- Hawkeye -- can't afford a better law firm?"

"I don't think that's the issue, Matt. I think you're scared they all know who you are," Foggy counters. "So assume they do. What bad has come of it so far, other than potential legal fees and Steve Rogers adopting you?"

Matt throws up his hands. "They fight aliens and killer robots and they travel all over the globe to do it. I have a life. A practice. And a partner. I don't need more partners."

"That's real sweet, Matt." Foggy is chuckling, like he's already won the argument. "Have you talked to Captain America about the kinds of missions he wants to include you on? Maybe he doesn't see you fighting aliens in Madagascar, either."

Well, shit. This is what he gets for arguing with another lawyer. Logic. 

"You made an assumption, didn't you, buddy? We know what they say about those, don't we?" Foggy is getting smug now. "Why don't you call him and invite him out to Josie's for a beer and we can --"

"We?"

"It's obvious you need representation to help negotiate your membership," Foggy says. "After all, a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client, right?"

"Negotiate my membership?"

"Have you even bothered asking what responsibilities and benefits come with it or were you too busy digging in your little red heels?"

"Little red heels?" Matt wrinkles his nose in disgust. "You just want to meet Captain America."

Foggy snorts. "And you didn't play Captain America when you were a kid? Yes. I admit it. I'm a fanboy. He's a legend --"

"He's also kind of a dick."

"Only because you were one first, I'm sure. Call him."

"What makes you think I have Captain America's phone number?" Matt counters. Of course he does. Steve programmed it into his phone himself and had a business card made in Braille in case Matt deleted it.

"The guy wants you, Matt. Of course he's gonna give you his number." Foggy groans as he realizes how that came out. "Wants you for his team. I mean --"

"And you really think I should introduce you?"

"Absolutely."

Matt sighs and pulls out his phone. "Are you going to listen in to the conversation?"

"Yes and when you're done, we're telling Karen that we're having that meeting with Hawkeye, your new team mate. He can be your friend, Matt, but remember who your best friend is." 

"I think you'll need to tell Steve that."

"Don't think I won't set his red, white and blue ass straight," Foggy promises. "Best friend and fellow avocado at law. No super soldier substitutes allowed."

Steve's phone rings exactly once before the man picks up and he sounds eager, like he's been waiting for nothing else besides Matt's call.

"I was wondering if you wanted to meet for a drink tonight," Matt asks slowly and he can hear Foggy's pulse speed up as he does a happy dance in Matt's office. "Don't get excited, Rogers, it's not a date and I'm bringing my partner. Law partner. Not the other kind. He has questions for you about your intentions." He rattles off the address for Josie's and they agree to meet at nine. Disconnecting, he tilts his head at Foggy. "Satisfied?"

"You know the answer to that," Foggy shoots back. "And you should talk nicer to Captain America, Matt. You were kinda rude."

"He likes it."

"Nobody likes it. They just put up with it. Besides, he's going to be your boss and think of the impression you're making. It's worse than pissing off a judge," Foggy scolds him. "Drinks are on you, Matt, and lose the attitude. Think of tonight as a job interview."

Matt raises an eyebrow. "The more you describe it, the less appealing being an Avenger sounds."

"Yes, dour Irishman. It's sure to be a miserable experience, saving the world and being a superhero sex symbol."

"I don't want to save the world --"

"So save the northern hemisphere. Think positive, Matthew."

Matt is positive he will be a card-carrying Avenger by the end of the day. Damn it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy in charge. 'nuff said.

Chapter 5

 

Matt is going to be an Avenger. Period. 

Foggy spends the rest of the afternoon prepping for the meeting with Captain America as if he were going into a settlement conference, which the meeting tonight could be considered. If Matt were so opposed to the idea of joining the Avengers, drinks with Captain America wouldn't be happening. Hell, Matt would never have gone into his own apartment the night he knew Cap broke in -- and yes, Foggy kinda digs it that Cap committed a misdemeanor to make his point. Foggy is a new lawyer, a young lawyer, but he is a damned *good* lawyer. His client (i.e., Matt) and the opposing side (i.e., the Avengers/Captain America) want the same thing. Therefore, all that remains to be done are negotiating the terms of the settlement and making sure his client doesn't derail the proceedings.

It's a tough ask, no two ways about it.

Matt dawdles, claiming he needs to put the finishing touches on a demand letter for their wrongful denial of insurance case. It's probably true. Matt's even more of a perfectionist than Foggy when it comes to choosing the precise verbiage to make a point. The end result is that they arrive at Josie's ten minutes late for Matt's job interview with Captain America. Foggy chooses the precise verbiage to make his point about that all the way from their office to Josie's bar.

They are just inside the door when Matt says he knows where Captain America is sitting even before Foggy sees him, saying something about the man having a heartbeat like a Sousa march. Foggy wouldn't have connected the big, smiling blonde guy with Captain America because the guy is around their age and he's not wearing his spangly uniform. He looks more like a guy from the neighborhood in his blue Henley and jeans than a living legend.

"He always seemed older in the history books," Foggy murmurs.

"His hearing is almost as sharp as mine," Matt murmurs back. "So he heard that." His lips curve into a grin as they approach the table. "Steve Rogers, this is my partner, Foggy Nelson."

"Capta-" Foggy begins.

"Please, call me Steve." Judging from the twinkle in Steve's eye, he definitely heard Foggy. "I'm 97. Or twenty-seven, depending on how you're counting."

"So are we," Foggy tells him. "Twenty-seven, that is. But if you combine our vast legal experience, we'd be --"

"Still proving ourselves," Matt cuts in smoothly. "Steve's not a client you need to impress, Foggy."

That gives Foggy the perfect opening. "Speaking of, we'd like to thank you for the referral of Mr. Barton's matter, Steve. That was very kind of you."

"And not at all manipulative," Matt chimes in. He pulls his leg away before Foggy can kick him under the table.

Foggy knows that Matt can tell he's annoyed so he doesn't need to say anything further. Instead he orders beers for the table and smiles pleasantly at Steve. "Thanks for coming tonight, Steve, and for agreeing to meet with us. My presence here is to facilitate what has been heretofore a difficult negotiation for a mutually desired goal."

Matt snorts at this and again dodges an under the table kick.

"Matthew, shh." Foggy shakes a finger at him, repeating the speech they've given to a couple of their more unruly clients. "Your lawyer is speaking. I can't represent you effectively if you continue to undermine my attempts to do so."

Matt raises his hands in surrender and mimes zipping his lips.

Steve is smirking, clearly enjoying the Matt and Foggy show.

"As I was saying," Foggy resumes smoothly, or at least he hopes it's smooth because hello, Captain America! "We appreciate your interest in Matt's talents --"

"What I've observed so far," Steve interrupts and judging from the way his smirk grows, it's clear Foggy's touched on a sensitive subject. "I still don't have a full understanding of what he brings to the table and how he does it."

"Really, Matt?" 

Matt arches an eyebrow. "Am I allowed to speak now?"

"No," Foggy decides. "Shut up, drink your beer and listen." He faces Steve again. "I can see your difficulty, Steve. Your abilities and how you acquired them are well-documented and quite public, as are the backgrounds of certain other of your team members. It's fair that we provide equivalent information about Matt but you're going to have to sign a non-disclosure form to obtain it in advance of Matt joining the team. Fortunately, I have one with me."

"Jesus, Foggy --" Matt starts to interrupt.

"I'll sign it," Steve cuts in and it's obvious that he's caught on to what Foggy is doing. He's got a very good chance of getting what he wants with Foggy's help. It's exactly the way Foggy likes the opposing side to think of him during negotiations.

Foggy produces the agreement and hands it to Steve, along with a pen. "Is your due diligence regarding Matt's abilities crucial to going forward with our discussion now or would you like to circle back after we've covered other ground?"

"We can cover other ground." Steve sips his beer and leans back in his chair.

"Good," Foggy says, pulling out a legal pad to take notes. "We have a number of questions for you, starting with whether this is a paid position."

Steve abruptly straightens and Foggy doesn't need Matt's super senses to know he's thrown by the question. "Well..."

"You're active military and at least two others are government employees. Stark has his own source of funds and I have no idea about Thor. But the fact is," Foggy leans forward, "Matt's sole source of income is our legal practice. It's also mine. We have a formal partnership in which we equally split the proceeds from our practice and what you're proposing will not only interfere with Matt's financial security, but mine as well. His activities with you will negatively impact his billable hours and Matt's time is worth three hundred dollars an hour. Four hundred if he's in court."

Matt snorts out a laugh at the blatant inflation of his billable hours and the heavy-handed argument for some kind of remuneration. Foggy fights the urge to roll his eyes at his partner's idiocy about something as important as money.

"We...uh... That is, I hadn't considered..."

"You'll need to, Steve. Obviously, Matt cannot serve in the military but I can't speak to the hiring practices of whoever employs Barton and Romanov. How long do you think it would take you to research the matter and come back to us?" Yeah, Foggy is on a roll now. Captain America might be hot shit in military combat but settlement negotiations are Foggy's battlefield. He is the goddamn *Patton* of settlements. "Is medical care included as part of membership on the team?"

"Yes." Steve looks so grateful to have solid footing that he probably doesn't realize Foggy just threw him an easy question on purpose. "Matt would have access to medical care, lodging in the Tower and meals, as well as equipment and training facilities."

"The food is cooked by Stark's personal chef," Matt snarks before tilting his head in Foggy's direction. "Stop trying to kick me under the table, Foggy. Doesn't it get embarrassing when you keep missing?"

"How many fingers do I have up, Matt?" Foggy flips him off with both hands, knowing it looks unprofessional but he has an ulterior motive.

"Two."

"And there's your demonstration of Matt's abilities, Steve."

"Impressive," Steve says, drily and clearly not impressed.

"You try it," suggests Foggy. "He'll get it right every time."

"I'm not a performing monkey," Matt snaps and then, to Foggy's delight, he relents. "Do it, Steve. You deserve a real demonstration for putting up with this."

Steve holds up three fingers. 

"Three. You can use both hands. Try again."

Nine fingers go up.

"Nine. Five on your left, four on your right." Grinning, Matt takes a sip of beer and then proceeds to show off, just like Foggy knew he would. Yes, Matt is mortified by Foggy's lawyering and now he's going to kiss Captain America's ass to make up for it. Exactly as planned. "Your watch is a Breitling and it's off by an eighth of a second. You came here by motorcycle and you changed the oil very recently, I'd estimate within the past 48 hours and you have a spot of oil on the left leg of your jeans. You also used leather moisturizer on the seat and polished the chrome. Your phone is in your pocket on mute without a vibrate option but you've had three calls while we've been sitting here. You might want to check your messages."

"Now I'm impressed," Steve admits, pulling out his phone to see that there are indeed three missed calls. He makes a face and pockets it again. "Is the pay issue a deal breaker?"

"I like my independence, Steve. I'm not living in Stark's ivory tower and my law practice needs me." Matt sits up straighter as he finally -- thank you, Jesus -- tells Captain America what it will take to get him on the team. "The pay issue becomes a deal breaker if you have me running around the world doing things I'm not equipped to do, like fighting those Doombot things or repelling an alien invasion. I'm neither a soldier nor a spy. Toppling governments doesn't interest me, especially if it's to line the pockets of a corporation instead of helping the oppressed. What I do in Hell's Kitchen is stand up for those who can't stand for themselves and I won't take time from it to help the people making their lives miserable."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Steve assures him. "Speak out if it's ever the case where something doesn't sit right, Matt. Everyone else does, anyway. It's what makes us so..."

"Dysfunctional?" Matt suggests.

"We're getting better." Steve chuckles at some private joke before continuing. "I'd ideally like to use your particular talents for putting a halt to operations by groups like HYDRA and AIM, doing essentially what you did to the Russians and the Chinese operating in Hell's Kitchen. They engage in slavery and drugs to finance their activities so it's possible that what you're doing in your own backyard is Avengers business but I'll need you to be able to travel if necessary."

"How often are we talking about?"

"Not very. You'd be more of an auxiliary member than a full time member," Steve assures him. "That would help us protect your identity. You'd need to share it with the team, of course, but it won't go further than that. I'd be happy to have everyone sign an agreement to that effect if it makes you feel better."

Matt laughs. "That's all it would do. Can you imagine me suing Captain America for breach of contract for revealing my identity?"

"It's not inconceivable," Steve shrugs. "I'm being sued for paternity by a dozen different women." He turns to Foggy with a considering look in his big baby blues. "Stark has his lawyers on that but I'd like to transfer the cases to Nelson Murdock. Something tells me Foggy here will do a better job."

"I would be delighted to represent you and you'll get our special Avengers rate," Foggy grins. The settlement conference is officially a success. He's had an actual conversation with Captain Freaking America, Matt is going to be an Avenger (part time and for pay!) and he's got billable hours coming his way courtesy of frivolous lawsuits against Steve Rogers. His work here is done. "Josie, bring us a bottle of your best eel."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Clint Barton knows Daredevil. He doesn't know Matt Murdock. At least, Matt hopes that's the case. Steve promised that Matt's identity would remain under wraps until tonight when he attends -- God help him -- an Avengers "team dinner." Apparently, this is a thing. Matt never cared for team sports, not that he was included much at the orphanage, and he's not looking forward to dinner tonight. His meeting with Barton? That he is looking forward to, because as long as Barton is a paying client, his billable hours will go towards keeping the lights on at Nelson & Murdock.

Karen is giddy as she leads Barton into their tiny conference room and takes a seat next to him. Barton must be attractive because her heartbeat and breathing are more rapid than usual. Then again, so is Foggy's. Matt's heartbeat and respiration are normal, of course. He shakes Barton's hand and smiles.

"So, Mr. Barton," Matt begins.

"Clint." His voice is louder than it needs to be, no doubt a result of a history of overcompensation for the limitations of his hearing aids. Whatever Barton has in now are high end. They emit a low mechanical buzz that even Matt has to strain to hear. "Call me Clint."

Matt instructs Clint to tell him about the building, from how he came to own it through the NYC Housing Authority's case against him. He leans back, listening intently and marveling that while Barton doesn't lie, he's omitting something. "Tell me about the previous owner."

"He was a dick." There's a sound of fabric shifting and a faint disturbance in the air. A shrug. "Russian mob. We're still having some disagreements. Nothing to do with the tenants, understand, just not agreeing to disagree, if you get my meaning."

"Do your disagreements extend to violence?" Matt asks. It's not really related to the Housing case but it's nice to know who he's about to get into bed with in both his day and night jobs.

"Well, yeah. We...uh, scuffle every now and again."

Matt makes a mental note not to visit Clint at home. "Since assuming ownership, have you made any repairs?"  


 "Yeah."

"Did you make them yourself or hire people to do them?"

Clint launches into an explanation of how he fixed a few toilets, hauled some trash and plastered cracks. In the background, pens scratch on paper as Foggy and Karen take notes.

"All right, Clint, we're going to take your case," Matt tells him, though this was decided far earlier in the day. "Karen will give you a retainer agreement to sign. In the meantime, I have some homework for you. Do the Avengers have some sort of PR person?"

"Uh, yeah," Clint answers cautiously. "I think. Pepper Potts, that's Tony Stark's, uh, I mean, the CEO of Stark's company. She handles stuff like that for us."

Matt nods approvingly. He doesn't know what to think of Stark but he's heard nothing but good things about the new CEO of Stark's company. "The first thing you're going to do when you leave here is call Ms. Potts. Tell her about the case and that you need to get in front of how it plays out in the media because, Clint, there is no way this case will not be leaked to the press. You have forty-seven code violations that extend back three years. Had you purchased the building through more conventional means, you might have done some diligence and discovered those violations. You may even have had the prior owner pay for their repair. Instead, you inherited them. The press is going to call you a slumlord, Clint, which brings me to my second assignment. You're going to hire a team of contractors to evaluate which issues to tackle first. It just so happens that we've represented some contractors and can refer them to you. No obligation to hire them, of course, but they're good, hardworking people who expect to be paid fairly and on time. When we go to court, I want to be able to present a plan to the judge that shows you're taking the problems seriously and are taking steps to address them. And finally, Clint, we're going to provide you with training. Owning a building comes with certain legal obligations and since you don't seem interested in hiring a management company, you need to know what those are. As an Avenger, you're a high profile target for bad publicity and lawsuits. Are we clear, Clint?"

Clint's breathing has gotten heavier while Matt's been speaking. "A slumlord? Really?"

"Whether it's true or not," Foggy tells him, "it makes a good story."

The Avenger heaves a weary sigh. "My tenants are good people. They like me."

"Of course they do," Karen assures him. "You're a nice man."

Matt stifles the urge to tell Karen how he suspects Barton really acquired the building and from whom. "Unfortunately, we can't use character witnesses in Housing court."

Fabric rustles again as Barton gets up and thanks them for their time. "Steve said you guys were good. He wasn't kidding." There's a pause. "How do you know him anyway?"

"We're friends." It's simple and succinct. Besides, the truth will come out over dinner and he's certain a trained spy like Barton would see through a lie. "Long story."

Barton ambles out and Foggy and Karen do a happy dance. Karen is excited to be representing an Avenger. Foggy is excited at the prospect of all of the billable hours the slumlord Avenger will bring in.

Matt isn't looking forward to facing the slumlord at dinner.

 

0000000000000000000000000000000

 

Steve is waiting for Matt at the Avengers entrance to the Tower. He'd offered to pick Matt up, but Matt, being his usual stubborn self, insisted that it was a short walk across town. Unlike last night, Matt is right on time, his cane tapping out a steady rhythm as he comes up to Steve. 

"Do you wait in the street for all your new recruits?" Matt asks by way of greeting.

"Only the ones who won't be able to find the hidden entrance," Steve shoots back. He has no doubt Matt can find the entrance even if he still doesn't fully understand how Matt can do the things he does. "How did you know exactly where I was standing?"

"You have a very distinctive heartbeat." Matt's hand hovers over Steve's chest. "It's very strong and steady. I could hear it four blocks away. Most heartbeats I can only hear three blocks away. You're also warmer than average, about one hundred degrees."

He knows Matt just threw him a very valuable crumb about his abilities. "Anything else?"

The other man's lips twitch upwards. "You used Bulgari Extreme shower gel about two hours ago. Nice choice, by the way, and you got your shoes shined early this morning. No. Wait. You shined them yourself. A little military spit shine, Captain?"

Steve grins, pleased. "All right, Avenger. Show me where the hidden entrance is."

Matt doesn't hesitate, walking over to the hologram of a loading entrance and positioning himself in front of the door. "There's no keypad. I'm guessing the AI controls it."

"Well done," Steve praises him. The doors slide open and Matt taps his cane twice at the threshold and then navigates towards the elevator without hesitation. "Describe your surroundings."

"The space is forty feet long and wide. Ten foot ceilings, no obstructions or decorations. Floors are linoleum. Cheap linoleum, actually. I'm a little disappointed by that. I thought Stark would have splurged even on the service entrances." Matt tilts his head slightly. "Are we done having me jump through hoops for the night, Steve?"

"We've just begun."

The elevator door opens and Matt runs his hand along one panel and then the opposite one. "No floor buttons?"

Steve shrugs. "JARVIS."

"This is an ADA violation. You're supposed to have floor markers in Braille."

"Really, Matt?" The elevator doors close and JARVIS directs the elevator without being told where to go. "It's not too late for me to invite Foggy to dinner to keep you in line."

"You're my new boss," Matt smirks. "That's on you now."

"I learned discipline in basic training," Steve intones. "In the 1940s. From drill sergeants that could make the ones today cry like little girls. Do you really want me to push me?"

The grin on Matt's face is pure glee. "I'm a practicing Catholic, Steve. You'll break before I will."

"On second thought, I'll just let Natasha deal with you." 

"It's not even my first day, Captain, and already you're making me somebody else's problem?"

"No sense wasting my valuable time," Steve shoots back.

The elevator doors open and there they are -- Clint, Natasha, Bruce and Tony -- waiting to greet their newest member. There's a loud cheer of 'Avengers Assemble' and then Clint swears loudly as Matt, being dramatic, taps his cane as he gets off the elevator, making a show of judging the gap. He sweeps the cane wide and smacks Barton across the shin. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Barton's eyes go wide as he gapes at Steve. "I knew it. I knew you'd never talk Daredevil into joining."

"Well, aren't you an ableist," Matt scolds him and Steve has to bite his lips at the other man's indignant expression. "How do you know I'm not Daredevil? You're hearing impaired and you're an Avenger."

"You're blind!" Barton sputters.

"Thank you for noticing." Matt takes a few more wild swings, missing Natasha who dodges away but whacking both Tony and Bruce sharply. "Which one of you is Iron Man?"

"Uh, I am." Tony steps forward and extends a hand.

Matt presses a folded document into it. "You've been served, Mr. Stark." 

Stark drops the paper.

"I'm kidding. That was a thank you letter from my parish for the Stark Foundation's generous donation to the St. Agnes Orphanage." 

Steve blows out a sigh. "Are you finished, Matthew?"

"You tell me, Steve. Are you going to make me perform like a trained seal all night?" Matt is incapable of giving Steve a dirty look but the way he tilts his head does it effectively enough. He draws himself up with exaggerated dignity. "For those of you who aren't ableist asshole clients or thawed out commanding officers, my name is Matthew Murdock. I'm a partner at the law firm of Nelson & Murdock. I am also Daredevil. As Mr. Barton so subtly mentioned, I am blind. Any questions?"

"We have to spar," Natasha tells him. "I've seen you in action. It was impressive."

"And I've seen you, insofar as I actually see, Ms. Romanov. You're remarkably graceful. I look forward to it." He flashes a smile that is for once neither mocking nor hostile. Then he tilts his head towards Tony, who is whispering in Bruce's ear. "No, Mr. Stark, I'm not a failed super soldier serum experiment nor am I a mutant."

"You're chemically altered," Tony informs him loftily. "I don't know what chemicals did it but whatever blinded you in that accident when you were nine must have affected you."

Matt smiles. "JARVIS, you naughty AI, did you not purge those files like you promised?"

"The files were purged, Mr. Murdock. I have merely supplied information that Mr. Stark just now requested."

"You're dying for a rematch, aren't you?"

"It will be my pleasure, sir."

Tony stares. "What did you do to my AI, Murdock?"

"I introduced it to the wonderful world of legal argument," Matt responds smoothly. His lips curve upwards. "And for your information, I won."

"He's representing me in Housing court," Clint says proudly. 

"Ask him to help you with your Tracksuit Mafia," Natasha smirks. 

Matt whacks Clint with his cane again. "Forget it, Barton. You strong-armed an apartment building from a petty Russian crime lord. You can clean up your own messes. I have my hands full in Hell's Kitchen with real criminals."

"Castle, right? Calls himself the Punisher? I might be able to help you persuade him to get lost," Clint offers.

"I can handle him."

"He shot you," Steve reminds him.

"And I broke his arm in two places and ruptured his spleen."

As the conversation continues, Steve can't help but smile. Matt Murdock fits right in with his band of misfits. It's time to take a closer look at Spider-man.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Right Idea Wrong Disability (Comic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947783) by [NarglesOnHerTongue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarglesOnHerTongue/pseuds/NarglesOnHerTongue)




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